


Surprisingly Handy

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Awkwardness, F/M, Finger Sucking, Frotting, Hand & Finger Kink, Hinted Ryan Bergara/Sara Rubin, Hinted Shane Madej/Ryan Bergara/Sara Rubin, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pining, Podfic Welcome, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 05:02:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16443422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Ryan notices Shane's hands, and then can't stop thinking about them. It escalates.





	Surprisingly Handy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beethechange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beethechange/gifts).



> Bee said she wanted "hand kink, stat, on [her] desk in a week" - so here it is!

It was Drunk Ryan’s fault. 

Drunk Ryan tended to focus on weird shit, and it was… well, it was weird, but he was also drunk.

He was more than a little drunk, sitting across from Sara and Shane, and he was staring at Shane’s hands.

Shane’s hands were wrapped around one ridiculous fucking tiki mug, which was modeled after a parrot, and his fingers were just… layered over each other, almost weaved together.

“You okay in there, Ry?”

Sara was giving Ryan a slightly worried expression. 

Ryan blinked back to himself.

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He was swaying, just a bit, and so was his stomach, which was… less than pleasant, but he could live with it.

He’d pour more booze on it. 

“I’m going to get another drink,” said Sara, and she… _she took Shane’s hand in her own_ , and then she was bringing Shane’s hand up to her mouth, and she was kissing the back of it.

Shane cupped Sara’s cheek, his thumb resting on her lower lip, his expression dopey, and Ryan’s cock was getting hard in his jeans, hard enough that he had to shift in his seat.

Then Sara was kissing the palm of Shane’s hand, and Shane’s index finger was tracing along the cupid’s bow of Sara’s upper lip, and the two of them were sharing that look that couples sometimes got - the nobody-else-exists-in-the-world look, simultaneously heartbreaking in its exclusion and heartwarming in its sweetness.

“S’cuse me,” Ryan mumbled, and his hands were shoved in his pants. “Just, uh, just going to the… to the bathroom.”

“You gonna need some help there, bud?”

Shane was frowning, as Ryan fumbled his way more or less upright, only wobbling a little bit, one hand flat on the table. 

Sara had gone back to the bar.

“You gonna be okay, bud? You need some help?”

“Of course I’ll be okay,” said Ryan. “And you’re seriously offering me help _peeing_. I’m a grown ass adult, I mastered that a while ago.”

Ryan was gabbling - he was _aware_ he was gabbling, although it was happening a long way off. 

Maybe that was happening to a different Ryan, who didn’t inhabit this particular space in the universe. 

Maybe that was the Ryan from the universe where Mothman was Mantisman, or something like that.

Wait, no, Mantisman was a thing from Portal, wasn’t it?

“Ryan,” said Shane, “you with us, buddy?”

He was snapping his fingers in front of Ryan’s face, and Ryan gave a nervous smile. 

God, his fingers were close enough that Ryan could wrap his lips around them, except that wasn’t a thing that he was going to concentrate on; that wasn’t going to be a thing that you _thought_ about with your friends, let alone your taken friends who are also your coworkers who are dating your close friends who are also your coworkers, although….

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Ryan said again, before he got pulled off into the whirlpool of his own thoughts.

He was staring at Shane’s fingers, which was rude, but he was drunk, so he could use that as an excuse, right?

_Please don’t let Shane notice my boner._

“You look like you’re going to fall over,” said Shane, “or possibly throw up. Or both.”

“I’m not gonna do both,” said Ryan. “I’ll be fine.”

He pulled back, and then he was stumbling towards the bathroom, as he tried not to fall forward - the floor seemed to be moving towards him, but as long as he took steps first, he’d be fine.

It would all be fine. 

* * *

Ryan stood in a stall in the men’s room, leaning against the wall, his eyes sliding shut, his hand wrapped around his cock, two fingers shoved into his mouth.

He hadn’t planned this.

He had, since he’d gotten older, been subject to the occasional bout of whiskey dick, but this… this was the opposite of whiskey dick.

Whiskey rod?

He covered his mouth with one hand, and then his fingers were sliding into his mouth - he was pressing down on his tongue with the tips of his fingers, his teeth digging into his knuckles, and his hips were rolling as he fucked his fist.

The men’s room was empty, thank fuck, but there was the pounding of the music, and Ryan closed his eyes, remembering Shane’s thumb on Sara’s lip, Sara’s lips against Shane’s palm.

Imagined Shane’s hand traveling lower, cupping Sara’s breast, then lower still, across Sara’s belly, between Sara’s legs.

God, his thumb on Sara’s clit, and then his fingers moving inside of her, appearing and disappearing, his slim knuckles bulging when he curled them, and Ryan could somehow see it _perfectly_ , as if he was watching from a god’s eye view, but god, he was fucking his own face with his fingers, and he could _almost_ hear Sara moaning, he could almost smell her, fuck….

Guilt was clawing its way up his throat, and anxiety was twisting through his gut, but god, the arousal was beginning to boil in his belly, his cock twitching in his hand.

“I’m gonna come,” he mumbled to nobody, and in his head, he was saying it to Shane, he was saying it to Sara, he was saying it to _someone_ , and he was practically sobbing as he fucked his fist.

The head of his cock was right up against his palm, and he moaned around it, sucking harder, drooling down his own chin.

He did something twisty with his wrist, and then he gasped, as his orgasm hit him in the back of the head like a sock full of batteries, or maybe a beer bottle.

A beer bottle would make sense in this setting, wouldn’t it?

… god, he was overthinking this.

How was he thinking in the first place? 

He was overthinking this, and he was coming across his own fingers, biting into other fingers, and his knees tried to give out.

Then the door opened, and Ryan nearly had a heart attack.

“Ryan?”

It was Shane.

That fucking… oh fuck.

“I’m fine,” Ryan said, only he was saying it around his own fingers, and that wasn’t good, because he was garbled.

Okay.

“I’m fine,” Ryan said again, and this time he didn’t have his fingers shoved in his mouth.

“You sure? You sound kinda -”

“Shane, can I take a shit without you interrogating it from every angle?”

… wait.

That was probably harsher than he meant to be.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he said. “Sorry for worrying you.”

“It’s fine,” said Shane, and he sounded amused. “I’ll, uh, leave you to it.”

"Thanks," said Ryan, as the door opened and closed again, leaving him alone in the bathroom. 

He looked down at his comemy fingers, imagined them longer, paler.

He blushed, hard enough that he felt it in his ears, and he resisted the urge to put his face in his hands.

He was so fucked.

He was so beyond fucked.

The image of Sara's lips pressing against Shane's palm flashed through his mind again, and his cock twitched, just enough for him to notice it.

"Really?"

He glared down at his own cock, and he gave a long, gusty sigh.

Okay.

So this wasn't his first dude crush, and it wasn't his first coworker crush, and it wasn't his first taken person crush.

It was his first time where the crush was the mix of all three of those, but... he could work with it.

Wait.

Shit.

Was this a crush?

Was he jumping the gun?

He was probably jumping the gun, probably assuming things based on his own biases, instead of what was reality. 

Whatever reality happened to be - as drunk as he was, there might have been dancing pink elephants, and he wouldn't be sure if they were real or not.

Ryan wiped his hand off, pissed, put his dick away, washed his hands, and went back to the table.

Sara and Shane were sitting together, and they were holding hands.

There was a mug in front of Ryan's seat - it was shaped like some kind of tiki god, and it had a little paper umbrella in it.

Ryan sat down, mumbling a thank you, and he tried not to stare at the way that Sara and Shane's fingers were entangled.

God, her fingers were so much shorter than Shane's - if they were palm to palm, the top joint of Shane's fingers would probably be able to bend over the tips of her fingers.

He blushed, staring down into his drink, and he took a drink of it, then started coughing, because it was made of fruit juice and some kind of dark rum, and he was wheezing as he took another slug of it, gasping. 

"Easy there," said Shane, and then... oh god, he was leaning over, and he was _hitting Ryan on the back_ , and Ryan was hyper aware of the sensation of Shane's hand - the heat of it, the fact that it Shane's fingers were so damn long - and he was blushing harder, as he took another slug of his drink.

"I think this should be your last drink," Sara said.

"You're probably right," said Ryan.

His eyes were on her hand, still being held by Shane's.

She was stroking the pad of her thumb along the tip of his thumb, tracing the shape of the nail.

Shane had very elegant fingernails - did he get manicures, or do something else to care for them?

Ryan stared down at his own hands, and he frowned.

He bit his nails, chewed on them when he was worried, and he had odd calluses from playing the guitar.

Would Shane have odd calluses?

"Ryan," Sara said, and Ryan snapped back to the present.

"Sorry, what?"

He blinked at the two of them in the dim light, and they both laughed at him.

He grinned, and he joined in, because, well... this was kind of ridiculous, wasn't it?

Here he was, sprouting a boner over Shane's fucking _hands_.

Wait, was that a thing?

"Can you sprout a boner?"

He hadn't meant to say that out loud, but drunk Ryan didn't have a filter. 

"I've never heard it put that way," said Sara, and her expression turned thoughtful. 

"I mean, I feel like if you were sprouting a boner, you'd be full on growing a new dick," said Shane, and he took a swig of his own drink.

He was sweating, just a bit, and now his arm was around Sara's shoulders, his hand on her arm.

Sara's head was resting on Shane's chest, and Ryan's own chest was filled with some kind of desperate longing.

Did he want to hold Sara?

Did he want to be held by Shane?

... goddamn it, drunk Ryan was running too rampant.

He let their talk run over him like a river, the two of them bickering in a friendly way about language, as he made occasional agreeable noises. 

He could act natural.

This wasn't a crush.

It was drunk Ryan fixating on something, because drunk Ryan sometimes just... got like that.

Maybe it was aided by the fact that Ryan hadn't really been any kind of physically intimate (sexual or otherwise) with another person in quite a while. 

His resolve firmed, he tried to keep up with the conversation, laughing and adding commentary when he could.

He could do this.

It was a drunk fixation, and he'd get over it when he was sober.

* * *

Ryan woke up with a pounding headache, a sour stomach, and an erection, the image of Shane's fingers in his mouth and tangled in his hair fresh in his mind.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

His face was in his pillow, and he groaned, squirming and trying not to hump the bed too hard.

So maybe it wasn't just a drunk Ryan fixation.

Maybe it was a sober Ryan fixation.

Or maybe it was residual drunk Ryan, sticking around like a bad house guest.

He rolled onto his back, one hand sliding into his boxers, the fingers of his other hand sliding into his mouth, his eyes sliding closed.

He could get off to it, get it out of his system, get rid of the last remnants of drunk Ryan, and it'd all be good. 

Right?

Right.

* * *

It wasn't.

Well, no, tell a lie - some of it was good.

The orgasm was good. 

Even with the headache and the queasiness, the orgasm was enough to make Ryan white out a bit at the edges, come drying on his chest, his feet unclenching, his whole body turning to jello. 

But the next evening, when he was falling asleep, the image of Shane's hands on Sara's arm wouldn't leave his head - Shane's fingers, spread out, holding on gently, just enough to wrinkle her shirt, but not enough to actually be felt on her skin.

What would it be like, to be held like that?

... what would it be like to hold Sara like that?

The fantasy got all tangled up; one second, he was fucking Sara, the next he was being held by Shane.

At one point, all three of them were in one big pile, although he lost track of just about everyone's limbs, apart from their hands.

There were two sets of fingers in his mouth, in his fantasy.

... oh god.

He cleaned the come off of his belly, and he stared at the ceiling.

He needed to go on a date.

He needed to... what did he need?

He needed to calm down, get his hormones under control, and get over this weird... fixation. 

It couldn't be healthy, and besides, it was just cruising for heartbreak. 

Shane and Sara were his best friends, and crushing on either of them was a bad idea - they were together, and not just together, but the kind of together that looked like it would last forever.

He sighed again.

After this next Unsolved shoot, he'd go on a few dates, get over his skin hunger and sexual frustration. 

That's all that this was, wasn't it? 

He wanted sex, he wanted intimacy, he was jealous of his best friends for having it, and he wanted in on it. 

... it sounded even more pathetic when he put it like that, but Ryan Bergara was nothing, if not honest about his own shortcomings. 

* * *

The Unsolved shoot was going to kill him.

It had started out simply enough - he and Shane sat in a car together, as Shane fiddled with his phone, his headphones in.

Ryan was alternating between messing around on his own phone, occasionally bantering with TJ, watching the scenery go by.

... not that there was much in the way of scenery.

Acres and acres of farmland on either side of them, going on for who knew how long.

They were going to investigate a haunted asylum, which was exciting enough, but the getting there portion of it was a bit... tedious. 

And then a flurry of movement caught his eye, and he looked over at Shane.

Shane's fingers were dancing over his phone screen, and he was wearing an expression of intense concentration.

Shane's fingers were so fucking _elegant_ \- the nails were short and rounded off, and he didn't seem to have any loose bits of skin around the tips.

His fingers were so long, and his knuckles were thin, but bulged every time his fingers curled.

Ryan's heart beat a little faster in his ears, and he licked his lips, trying not to make any kind of obscene, embarrassing noises, trying not to be too obvious about his boner, trying not to be too obvious about whatever the fuck was going on in his head right now.

Did he even know?

"Oh," said Shane, and he looked over at Ryan. "You know the game?"

"Game?"

Ryan tried to blink back to reality, and was only partially successful.

God, Shane was wearing those soft grey sweat pants as well - the ones that always gave Ryan a bit more of a view than Shane probably intended.

... not that Ryan had been paying attention or anything like that, but, well, he had eyes in his head, and how was he supposed to ignore... all of that. 

"Yeah," said Shane, and he held out his phone, flashing the screen at Ryan.

There was a little message from Sara blinking in the corner, although Ryan averted his eyes before he could see what it said. 

"What game is it?"

"Oh, it's by that one offshoot of Disney," said Shane, and then he was demonstrating how to play the game - it seemed to involve matching the cute little characters together, making them disappear, for more to show up.

Ryan shifted in his seat, and prayed his boner couldn't show.

"You wanna try it?"

Shane held his hand out to Ryan, and his fingers brushed against Ryan's.

"Sure," Ryan gabbled, and he was holding on to Shane's phone, and Shane's hand was on his _leg_ now, leaning over to look at the screen. 

Ryan dragged his finger across the screen at random, far too aware of the heat of Shane’s hand, far too aware of the way his heart was beating so hard it was going to burst out of his ribs like something out of a Ridley Scott movie, only less phallic.

… well, hopefully less phallic, although with the current mood he was in, who even knew.

“Good one,” said Shane, and now his face was close enough to Ryan’s that Ryan could have leaned in and kissed him.

He could have counted each of Shane’s eyelashes, and Shane’s breath was warm against Ryan’s face. 

Then the little Sara icon blinked again, and he blinked at it, because it was taking up the whole top of the screen for a minute.

The message said _dude I’m going on the date with has the best butt wtf_ and Ryan’s mind was doing some kind of shouting thing. 

Ryan wasn’t aware what kind of thing, because there was so much shouting. 

“Sorry,” Ryan said quickly, and he shoved the phone at Shane, nearly dropping it.

“What are you two doing back there?”

TJ sounded tired, but then again, TJ always sounded tired.

“Nothing,” Ryan said. “Absolutely nothing. Why, did you think we were doing something?”

Shane snorted.

“You sound guilty,” he told Ryan, and he put a hand on Ryan’s shoulder.

Ryan was _painfully_ aware of how warm Shane’s hand was, the hardness of the bones in contrast to the softness of the skin. 

“I’m not guilty,” Ryan said. “Never done anything wrong in my life.”

“We both know that’s bullshit,” said Shane, and he was leaning back into his seat, firing off some rapid fire texting.

Sara was on a date, or going on a date, or… something, and Shane knew about it.

Were they polyamorous?

Shit, why didn’t Shane ever mention that?

… well, then again, Shane tended be somewhat close lipped about certain aspects of his personal life, and Ryan wasn’t one to pry.

Okay.

Ryan sank down into his seat, and he pulled the hood of his sweater up, covering his eyes with it.

“I’m going to have a nap,” he said. “Wake me up when you need me.”

“But Ryan, don’t you know,” said Shane, “we always need you.”

Ryan made himself make a dismissive noise, and tried to bite back a whine or a moan or something equally embarrassing. 

Oh god.

He closed his eyes, and he evened his breathing out, letting the rhythm of the car lull him into some kind of fugue state.

So Sara and Shane were polyamorous. 

Huh.

That was an interesting thing to ponder. 

He was going to ponder it, and maybe at some point he’d talk to Shane about it; they could talk, bro to bro, about being in different sorts of relationships, and the advantages versus disadvantages.

You had those types of conversations with best friends cum colleagues, right?

… why did he have to think of it like _that_.

He bit back a groan, and he wrapped his arms more firmly around himself, letting the wave of sleep crash down over him. 

God, he had it bad.

He had it so bad.

* * *

Things were more or less normal, once they got on location.

He and Shane shared a motel room, as always - a pair of double beds, and maybe Ryan was a little disappointed that it wasn’t a single bed, but he squashed down that traitorous part of himself pretty quickly. 

They were going to a haunted asylum, where who even knew how many people had killed themselves, and it was in the middle of nowhere, to make it even more creepy.

At least he wasn’t thinking too hard about his crush on Shane.

Admittedly, because he was scared enough that he was going to piss himself, but still.

… no, that was a lie.

He was thinking about how nice it’d be to be holding Shane’s hands - to have their fingers woven together, squeezing, to feel Shane’s broad, flat palm against his own, the tips of Shane’s fingers against the backs of his knuckles.

How would it feel, to press close to Shane, to clutch at Shane’s coat, the warmth of Shane’s body against his own?

He licked his lips, and he hoped his wide eyed expression of terror would be chalked up to the surroundings, not the fact that he and Shane were squeezed together in a small corridor.

“They made things a lot smaller back then,” Ryan said, when Shane nearly brained himself on a pipe. “They didn’t expect a race of giants like the Madejs.”

“We did kinda come from left field, didn’t we?”

Shane was as calm as ever, his expression amused as ever.

And then something crawled across the back of Ryan’s hand, and Ryan was screaming. 

It was a pretty impressive scream - he could have auditioned for a _Doctor Who_ companion, and it was echoing throughout the small tunnel.

Shane’s hand came up, and then it was covering Ryan’s mouth, and Shane had pulled Ryan in closer, until Shane’s camera was pressing into Ryan’s back, and Shane’s breath was against the back of Ryan’s neck.

“I am as entertained as ever by your distress,” Shane said, “but I’m a bit worried you’re going to bring the whole place down on us.”

_We’re in a tunnel, not a cave,_ Ryan wanted to say, or maybe _you sound like a fucking Cenobite when you say things like “I’m entertained by your distress,”_ but all that came out was a faint mumbling.

Shane’s hand was on his face.

Shane’s palm was pressed against his lips, and Shane’s fingers were curling over Ryan’s jaw, Shane’s ring and pinkie finger pressed against the underside of Ryan’s chin, Shane’s thumb pressing into the side of Ryan’s nose. 

Ryan was trembling, and the thing was crawling across his hand, still - it was a spider, wasn’t it? - and he was so hard that it was _painful_ , pressing against the front of his pants, his heart hammering in his ribs, his mouth going dry.

“Ryan?”

Shane’s mouth was right up against Ryan’s ear, and they were going to have to get rid of this footage, because it wasn’t going to be any good, but oh fuck, when the two of them were pressed together like this, it was… oh, fuck.

Shane’s other arm was around Ryan’s waist, holding them together, and it was like a hot iron bar, holding Ryan in place.

“Ryan,” Shane said again, and his voice was soothing, his hand still over Ryan’s mouth. “Are you okay?”

_I can’t say anything,_ Ryan thought. _Both literally and figuratively._

“Just nod if you’re okay, Ryan,” said Shane. 

Ryan nodded slowly. 

“If I take my hand off of your mouth, will you keep screaming?”

_If I say yes, will he keep his hand on my mouth?_

Shane’s fingers were twitching, just a bit, and Ryan could feel every goddamn twitch.

Fuck.

“Shane,” Ryan’s voice was muffled. 

“Ryan,” Shane said, and his voice was vibrating through his chest, and it was buzzing pleasantly against Ryan’s skin.

Ryan grabbed Shane’s wrist, regretfully pulling Shane’s hand away from his mouth.

“A spider ran over my hand,” said Ryan, and he was holding on tightly enough to Shane’s wrist that he could feel the little bones shifting under his fingers. “It startled me, and then, uh, then I saw my shadow, and it was dancing around, which made me jump.” 

“And then scream?”

“And then scream,” Ryan agreed. 

“Are you going to stop screaming?”

"You already asked me that," Ryan said.

"I like to double check," said Shane. 

The tips of Shane's fingers were still resting on Ryan's cheek, and Ryan was a little bit afraid he'd pass out.

It'd be so fucking worth it. 

Imagine swooning, being caught by Shane, held in Shane's arms....

God, Ryan was turning into some kind of romance novel heroine.

Only, well, male and buff and also not fictional.

"I won't scream," Ryan said.

Shane's arm was around Ryan's waist, and he squeezed Ryan tightly.

Ryan was shaking, with arousal, with the residual adrenaline. 

Shane's hands were on him.

Shane was _touching_ him.

"Okay," said Shane, and then he was letting go of Ryan, stepping back.

Ryan already missed the warmth of his body. 

"So," said Shane, "ready to keep going?"

"Right," said Ryan. "Let's do it." 

* * *

Ryan continued the whole goddamn shoot with at least a half chub, and he wanted nothing so much as to go back to the hotel room, take a shower, and jerk off until he couldn't remember his own name.

At least he was able to keep up witty banter, and they were able to spin the cameras being on the fritz as possible supernatural antics, versus the two of them knocking into each other.

He'd be able to remember the feeling of Shane's fingers on his face for the rest of his fucking _life_ , if he was lucky.

Maybe he needed to scream more in his day to day life, if that would be an outcome.

Oh god.

No, he wasn't going to engineer himself into situations where he was going to get groped by Shane, because that was just sick.

He was thinking too deeply into this, fuck.

The ride back to the motel was weirdly quiet, and he would occasionally catch sight of Shane looking him sidelong, face dappled by the passing streetlights.

The weird... awkwardness between the two of them continued, when they got back to the motel room, until Shane sat on his own bed and cleared his throat.

"So," Shane said, and his voice was... borderline nervous, which was unexpected, since Shane usually came across as pretty unflappable.

"So?"

Ryan stood by the bathroom door, crossed his arms across his chest, then shoved his hands in his pockets - he didn't want to look too closed off, did he?

"You saw that message that Sara sent me, when I was showing you that game on my phone," Shane said.

"Dunno what you're talking about," Ryan said, although he was lying through his teeth, and... no, that wasn't fair. "Okay. So I kinda know what you're talking about. But it's none of my business what you get up to in your personal life."

Shane made a face that could best be described as "pained," and he cleared his throat.

"I don't... I know you've been looking at me kinda funny, since you saw it," he told Ryan. "I just wanted you to know that... we're polyamorous. There's nothing hinky or anything like that going on. She's not sneaking out on me, or doing some weird kinky thing. We're just polyamorous."

"Oh," said Ryan. "I mean, I figured it'd be that."

"You... did?"

"Yeah," said Ryan. "What else would it be?"

This conversation wasn't going where he thought it would be going, although then again, he hadn't been sure where he had thought it would be going. 

Shane shrugged, looking uncomfortable.

"I don't know," he said. "Maybe you thought I was doing cuckold stuff, or something of that nature."

"I mean," said Ryan, as the surrealness of the situation began to sink in, "even if you were, I don't think I'd, uh... I don't think I'd mind. Or care. I should say care, not mind, since it's not my relationship or my life or anything like that, but, uh...."

Ryan trailed off.

"So I just made this super awkward," Shane said, his tone artificially bright.

Ryan snickered, then began to laugh.

It was all just so... ridiculous that he couldn't help it, because... well.

Well.

This was such a weird situation, wasn't it?

"You're laughing at me in my time of distress," Shane said in a dejected tone. "I knew you'd betray me like this."

Ryan gave him the finger, still panting, and Shane gave Ryan the finger back.

It was a very long finger, and Ryan did his best not to lick his lips.

"So," said Ryan, when he could catch his breath, "is this guy Sara's on a date with nice?"

... so he was a little lost, okay?

Sure, he knew polyamorous people, but not like he knew Shane.

"He's nice enough," Shane said, leaning back into his pillows, his expression slightly nervous. "I went on a few dates with him, but we didn't really click. Him and Sara really connected, though, so they've been flirting for a while."

"You and him?"

... huh.

So Shane was into dudes.

Um.

"Yeah," said Shane, and he held up both hands in an "I surrender" sort of gesture. "I'm laying it all bare on the table, it seems. I like guys. I'm polyamorous. I'm also allergic to celery."

"... wait, you can be allergic to celery?"

Ryan was reeling a bit.

More than a bit.

There was just so... _much_ going on at once, so of course, his brain had to latch on to the least important part of that sentence.

"Yeah," said Shane. "My mouth goes numb if I eat it."

"Celery barely qualifies as food," said Ryan. "It's water with ideas above its station."

"You need to be wearing a really fancy hat when you say that," Shane advised. "Maybe a fan to snap open."

He made a fake fan with his hand, waving it in front of his own face like a coquette in a certain kind of movie, and Ryan did his best not to stare.

"Have you been watching a lot of period dramas?"

Ryan tried to sound calm, and tried to will his cock to go down.

He shifted, casually, and he curled his hand into a fist in his pocket - it was close enough to his dick that he could have, in theory, touched it, if he really tried.

He licked his lips then, and cleared his throat.

"Sara does," said Shane. "So if you're not freaked out by the polyamory thing, why have you been staring at me like that?"

"Like what?"

Ryan was fighting the urge to run - to full on abscond, leave a Ryan shaped hole in the door like Wile E. Coyote. 

"Like you're afraid of me, or maybe disgusted with me," said Shane, and okay, yeah, there was a touch of hurt or... something in Shane's voice, in a way that Ryan hadn't expected. 

"I'm not... I'm not afraid of you," said Ryan. "Far from it. I promise."

Shane was looking at him, with an expression that could best be described as "thoughtful," and Ryan was blushing.

"I'm... I've been having some... some feelings. And I've been processing them, and I was hoping that I had been a bit more, uh... a bit more _subtle_ than I guess I have been."

"Feelings," Shane said, in a flat tone of voice.

"Yeah," said Ryan. "Feelings."

"What kind of feelings?"

The urge to run out of the place like a Warner Brother's character got stronger, and he licked his lips. 

Shit.

"You have really nice hands," Ryan blurted out.

"... what?"

That clearly wasn't what Shane had expected, and he squinted at Ryan, clearly confused.

"You have really nice hands," Ryan said again, and he was blushing harder. "I think... I think that they're nice. And I've been...noticing them. And noticing other things. Other things about you. And I've been, uh... I've been thinking about them, and feeling guilty, since, y'know, you're taken, only you're kinda not taken, which makes it kinda complicated. Or not complicated, depending on how you look at it."

"Right," said Shane, taking in the rush of words that were washing over him. 

"But... yeah. I'm not mad at you, or afraid of you, or anything like that."

"How long have you, uh... have you noticed that I've got nice hands?"

"Remember when we went to that tiki bar, and you got that mug like a parrot?"

"You mean the time that you... ran off into the bathroom," said Shane, and it was like a light dawning. "Oh."

"Yeah," Ryan said, and he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. It's, uh, it's inappropriate, and I'll obviously get over it -"

"You don't have to," Shane said, and his voice was downright _tentative_ , which was unexpected.

Ryan's heart full on leaped, like something out of a goddamn love song. 

"What?"

"Get over it. You don't have to. If you don't want to. I mean... it's obviously risky, but... what in life isn't risky."

Shane wasn't looking at Ryan, and his hands were folded together, resting on his own knee, where he'd crossed his legs.

"Are you offering me... what? I mean, uh... what are you offering me?"

"I guess I'm saying if you're, uh... if you're interested in me, you can continue to be interested. Or more than interested, as the case may be."

"Shane," said Ryan, "I'm not entirely sure I understand what you're saying.

"If you would be interested in some kind of romantic or physical... something or other, I'd be interested too," said Shane. 

He was blushing, all the way to his ears.

"Oh," said Ryan, because that was... that was unexpected.

Sort of.

Or was he just gibbering?

"Right," said Shane, more to fill the silence than to actually say something. 

At least, Ryan assumed.

And then Shane was standing up, and he was… walking over, so that he was close enough to touch Ryan, until they were almost chest to chest, and he was leaning down, one of his big hands tentatively hovering over Ryan’s face, then cupping Ryan’s cheek. 

_Shane's hands are on my face again,_ Ryan thought, and then Shane's face was right in his face, and they were kissing.

It was a chaste, dry kiss - a brush of lips on lips, not much more than that - but Ryan's heart was beating very fast in his chest when Shane pulled back.

"Oh," Ryan said, and his voice was thick.

"If you're not feeling it," Shane said quickly, "we don't have to - mmph!"

Ryan stood on tiptoe, putting a hand on the back of Shane's head, a different hand on Shane's shoulder, and he kissed Shane on the mouth, hungry and desperate, practically shaking. 

Shane's hands were still on his face, and _god_ , Shane's long body was pressed against him, and the two of them were clutching at each other like it was the end of the world. 

"Fuck," Ryan said, his forehead against Shane's, nose to nose, breathing each other's breath.

That couldn’t have been good for Shane’s back, but Ryan couldn’t find it in himself to care at that moment. 

"You doing okay?"

Shane sounded worried.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno," said Shane, and he looked faintly embarrassed. "I know, uh, you're... you probably don't have much experience with this kind of thing."

Ryan could feel his eyebrows joining together, and one of Shane's thumbs came up to smooth the line between them. 

"What kind of thing?"

"The whole... guy with a guy thing," said Shane. 

Ryan raised an eyebrow.

"I've done this before," he said. "I mean... not usually quite so, uh, emotionally invested, to the extent that I am, but... you're not the first guy I've kissed. Or done more than kissed, if you'd like to do more than kiss."

"I'd like to do more than kiss," said Shane, in a fervent tone of voice. "If you'd like to."

"More than kiss," echoed Ryan. "God, yes, I want -"

"What do you want?"

Shane's thumb was resting on Ryan's cheek now, and Ryan turned his face towards Shane's hand, kissing the tip of Shane's thumb, then wrapping his lips around it, sucking on it.

"Oh," said Shane, and he licked his lips.

They were dry enough that it made a small rasping noise.

Shane pressed his thumb down on Ryan's tongue, and Ryan kept sucking on it, hollowing his cheeks out.

Shane's fingers were curled along his jaw, the tips of his fingers resting along the front of Ryan's throat, his pinkie on Ryan's Adam's apple.

Ryan took more of Shane's thumb into his mouth, until his tongue was tracing over the webbing between Shane's thumb and index finger, and he kept his eyes on Shane.

... fuck, this must have been the most porn star thing that Ryan had ever done, and his heart was beating in his ears, his cock throbbing in his pants.

"Ryan," Shane said, and his voice cracked; he tried again. "Ryan."

"Mm?"

"What do you want, right now?"

Ryan traced his tongue around one of the indents of Shane's thumb, along the spot where Shane's thumb bent. 

"That's not an answer," Shane said, although his voice was ragged.

Ryan grinned around the thumb in his mouth.

He'd finally found a way to get under Shane's skin.

Good to know.

Shane shuddered, and then he was pulling his thumb out of Ryan's mouth, holding Ryan's face in his hands again, and he was kissing Ryan.

Ryan sucked on Shane's tongue, nibbled on Shane's lower lip, and then he was being pushed backwards, and they were walking awkwardly, and then the backs of Ryan's knees were against the bed, and Shane was pushing him backwards.

"I really, really want to fuck you right now," said Shane, and his voice was that same mellow, calm tone that he usually used, although his breathing was a little ragged.

He was looming over Ryan like some kind of gargoyle, and it was making Ryan's stomach tie up in knots, his cock twitching in his pants.

"Yeah?"

Ryan grabbed Shane's hand, and he slid Shane's index and middle finger into his mouth, sucking on them the way he'd been fantasizing about for so long.

"But... mmm... we don't have lube," Shane said, and then he moaned, his fingers pressing down on Ryan's tongue. "I can't think when you do that, y'know."

Ryan let go of Shane's hand, although he held on to Shane's wrist, his fingers circling around the bony joint. 

"We could go and get lube," Ryan pointed out. "I'm sure there's a twenty four hour drug store somewhere around here."

"... as tempting as that sounds," Shane said, "I don't want to have to explain to TJ why I'm dashing off in the middle of the night, and you _know_ he'd be able to see through any excuse we'd make."

Ryan made a face, because Shane had a point.

"Oh well," said Shane, and his thumb was tracing over Ryan's upper lip, his fingers still pressing down on Ryan's tongue.

"You don't seem too torn up about it," said Ryan, although his speech was somewhat garbled by the fingers in his mouth.

Shane shrugged, and his other hand was sliding under Ryan's shirt, fingers spreading over Ryan's belly, then moving up, towards Ryan's chest.

He leaned forward, and his face was pressed into Ryan’s neck now, kissing along it, shoving the neck of Ryan’s shirt to the side so that he could kiss along the line of Ryan’s throat, which was making Ryan thrash and groan around the fingers in his mouth.

It felt like Shane had been carrying around his own fantasies, which was a heady thing to contemplate in and of itself. 

"You look really hot like this," Shane said when he came up for air, his lips wet from all the kisses he’d pressed onto Ryan’s neck, "and the fact that I got to make out with you in the first place is pretty awesome, let alone the fact that you'd be willing to wait for a later date to let me fuck you. Or for you to fuck me, if that's what you'd prefer."

Ryan let Shane's fingers slide out of his mouth, and he cackled.

"What's so funny? I'm bearing my heart and soul right now, and you're laughing at me!"

Shane's voice was full of mock outrage, and his hand was warm as it shoved Ryan's shirt up around his chin, exposing Ryan's chest to the cool air. 

"Sorry," said Ryan, and he almost meant it.

Shane snorted, and his hand went lower, down under Ryan's navel, fingers dipping into the waistband of Ryan's jeans.

The fingers of his other hand were in Ryan's mouth again, and Ryan sucked on them, flickering his tongue along the tip, sucking his fingers as if they were his cock.

Shane moaned, pumping his fingers in and out of Ryan's mouth, as if he was fingering someone, and Ryan moaned back, sucking harder.

"So I need you to unbutton your pants," Shane said, after almost a minute.

He was grinding his hips forward, his cock hard against Ryan's knee, and Ryan had to grin at that, just a bit.

Shane felt... well, big.

He _was_ big, looming over Ryan like this.

Ryan blinked up at him, trying to get his head in some kind of order.

"Can't do it yourself?" 

More garbled, but more or less understandable.

"I have to move my hand if I do that," Shane said, and he made to remove his fingers from Ryan's mouth.

Ryan closed his mouth, nipping Shane's fingers just a bit, and Shane raised an eyebrow, but didn't protest.

Ryan unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped his pants, trying to wriggle out of them with something vaguely resembling dignity, but... eh, fuck it.

He settled for letting his jeans rest around his thighs, his cock tenting his boxers, and he'd have been embarrassed, if he wasn't living out the fantasy that he'd had who even knew how many times.

"Well," said Shane, and he was looking Ryan up and down, his eyes wide, his mouth open, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. "Well."

"Mm?"

Ryan held on to Shane's wrist, and then he regretfully let go of Shane's hand, letting Shane's fingers slide out of his mouth.

He kissed the tip of each finger, and he sat up, somewhat awkwardly, to slide his fingers into the belt loops of Shane's jeans.

"God," Ryan said, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead into Shane's stomach, his nose right up against the button of Shane's chinos.

"You alright?"

Shane's hand, still damp from Ryan's mouth, rested on Ryan's head, gently tugging on the hair there.

"Yeah," Ryan said, and he pushed up the hem of Shane's shirt, nuzzling his face into the soft, warm skin.

Shane smelled like himself, a mix of familiarity and alienness that set Ryan's nerves alight.

Shane's skin was breaking out in goosebumps, from the cool air and the brush of Ryan's warm breath.

"You wanna take a break?"

Ryan glanced up at Shane, and he saw Shane's worried expression.

Ryan rolled his eyes.

"I'm not some doe eyed virgin," he told Shane, and he sat up enough that he could wrangle Shane's belt open, shoving Shane's boxers and jeans down in one movement.

"Excuse me for being... concerned, christ, _warn_ a guy," Shane said, as Ryan leaned forward, enveloping the head of Shane's cock in his mouth.

Ryan pulled off of Shane's cock, making eye contact and making a big show of licking his lips.

"Hey Shane," Ryan said, "I'm going to suck your cock now, 'kay?"

Shane snickered, and he was still snickering when Ryan came back down onto his cock, one hand around the base of Shane's cock, bobbing his head and sucking. 

He was already drooling down his chin - he'd always been kinda sloppy when it came to giving blowjobs, although he didn't think that Shane would complain too hard.

Shane's hands were in his hair, tangling it, tugging on it gently, and then there was a hand on the back of his head, and another behind his ear, and he was pressing down on that sweet spot, right above the hinge of Ryan's jaw.

Ryan moaned around the cock in his mouth, and Shane moaned back.

Shane had a lovely cock - thick and hot on Ryan's tongue, the skin smooth, pre-come salty as Ryan swallowed it down.

It wasn't the way that Ryan had imagined it - Ryan wasn't really sure how he had imagined it, except that this was better than he could have thought it would be. 

Ryan laved his tongue along the underside of Shane's cock, then used the tip of his tongue to jab at the sensitive spot right under the head, to make Shane go stiff, gasping. 

Shane's hips were moving, small twitches of his hips, and Shane's cock was twitching as well, moving in Ryan's mouth.

"God, Ry, your mouth is... fucking amazing," said Shane, and his voice was rough. "It's... so... good, oh _fuck_ , Ryan!"

Ryan pulled almost all of the way off of Shane's cock, until it was resting on his lower lip, and he looked up at Shane through his eyelashes, trying not to look too smug.

... he was a little smug, and more than a little turned on.

"How are you so good at this?" 

Shane’s tone was faintly accusing.

“What, I’m not allowed to be good at giving blowjobs?”

Shane’s fingers were stroking through Ryan’s hair still, twisting it around and around his index finger, his other hand tracing the length of Ryan’s jaw, and Ryan was in fucking _heaven_.

“You are, you are,” said Shane. “But you act so much… like you.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just saying, like….” 

“Hmmm?”

“I should stop digging, shouldn’t I?”

“I’m just amused that you think that, somehow, because I was in a frat and like sports, I don’t give good blowjobs.”

It was, admittedly, not the first time that Ryan had run into this sort of attitude, but it still amused him.

“Okay, so I’m a bigoted, close minded individual. I’m the worst.”

Ryan snorted, a burst of hot air on the sweat slick skin of Shane’s erection, and Shane moaned.

Ryan stroked Shane’s cock, marveling at the way it got a little thicker in his hand, at the way that Shane’s hips twitched forward.

“I forgive you,” Ryan said, and another stroke, pausing to collect some of Shane’s pre-come in his fingers, spreading it along Shane’s shaft.

Shane groaned again, and then he was leaning down, kissing Ryan again, and his hands were sliding into Ryan’s boxers, shoving them down, wrapping his hand around Ryan’s cock, and Ryan’s toes curled, his hips rolling forward, his head falling back. 

“Good to know,” said Shane, and he was… what _was_ he doing?

They were shifting, and then Shane was on top of Ryan, and his fingers were in Ryan’s mouth again, this time against the roof of Ryan’s mouth, and Ryan sucked on them clumsily, drooling out of the corners of his mouth, making wet noises.

Shane was lining their cocks up awkwardly, and then he was wrapping his hand around them, squeezing them together, and Ryan’s hands were on Shane’s shoulders, balling the fabric up in his fists. 

He was getting pretty close to sensory overload, and he ground his hips forward.

Shane’s hands were bony, and Shane’s cock was hard and hot. 

Shane’s cock was damp, and Ryan’s own cock was damp, and they were sliding together as they frotted.

Shane’s glorious, wonderful hands were caging them in, and Shane’s finger was stroking the inside of Ryan’s mouth, hooking into one cheek, then tracing along the bluntness of Ryan’s teeth.

Ryan moaned, and his hips bucked up, his cock beginning to twitch.

It was quiet - it felt like there should have been more banter, more snark, more… _something_ , but how was Ryan supposed to banter, when he had a mouth full of finger, and it wasn’t like he was going to ask Shane to hold the whole thing together himself.

Although….

Ryan snickered, and he reached between them, to squeeze their cocks together as well, and then Shane was intertwining their fingers, and Ryan was fucking the channel that their hands made, and so was Shane, and Shane’s sweat was damp, almost clammy against Ryan’s skin, soaking through Shane’s shirt.

“Oh, fuck,” Shane said, and his fingers were pressing down on Ryan’s tongue again, and his other set of fingers were squeezing Ryan’s own fingers, squeezing Ryan’s cock, squeezing his own cock.

Ryans’ skin was too tight, and his heart was pounding in his temples, his toes curling. Every nerve seemed to be alight, and he was beginning to shake.

The pressure and the sweetness was building and building in his belly, at at the base of his spine, pulling tighter and tighter, and he kept his face on Shane’s, trying not to bite down as his orgasm balanced on the very edge of the precipice.

Shane groaned, and his grip tightened, almost enough to get painful, and that seemed to be what it took.

Ryan’s back arched, his heels digging into the bed, his hips jerking forward, and then he was coming, sweetness and heat rushing out of him like a wave, pleasure flooding him, leaving him spent and panting, as his come spurted across their joined hands, over his stomach, over Shane’s stomach.

“Shit,” Shane said, and then he was using some of Ryan’s come as lube, and his hips were jerking forward, his cock swelling, and he was still holding on to Ryan’s cock, which was something like torture, but _oh_ god, Shane’s _face_....

Shane came across Ryan’s stomach, and his face went open and ugly, wonderful in its vulnerability, and Ryan licked his lips, staring up into Shane’s face, as Shane slumped forward, his fingers finally coming out of Ryan’s mouth, to stroke along Ryan’s jaw.

“Fuck,” Shane said, and his voice was rough, as he carefully untangled himself and flopped onto the bed, flat on his back. 

“Mmm?”

Ryan reached out cautiously, as some of the horniness finally left his brain, giving him some room to think.

He wanted to cuddle up to Shane.

He wanted to shower, also with Shane.

He wanted to eat pizza.

… hm.

Shane’s hand intercepted Ryan’s, and he squeezed it.

“Sara is gonna be so smug about this,” Shane said, in a resigned tone of voice.

Ryan’s stomach gave a bit of a lurch.

_Shit_.

“She’s okay with this?” 

Ryan hated how tentative he sounded, but he didn’t really know how to turn it off.

“You think I’d have done this if she wasn’t?”

Shane sounded faintly offended.

“Sorry,” said Ryan. “I mean, like… okay enough that you’d tell her?”

“She’s gonna want all the juicy details,” said Shane. “If it’d be alright for me to tell her,” he added, and there was almost a question at the end of that sentence.

His thumb was stroking over the tops of Ryan’s knuckles.

“Of course it is,” said Ryan, and he was blushing, just a bit, at the idea of Sara hearing… well, all of this. 

Did the idea turn him on?

… yes.

Yes, it did.

If nothing else, he’d have someone else to drool over Shane’s hands with, right?

**Author's Note:**

> Like this fic?
> 
> Want me to write you something like it, or something completely different?
> 
> Come talk to me on my tumblr, theseusinthemaze.tumblr.com!


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